


Sleep Aid

by xwincesterx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwincesterx/pseuds/xwincesterx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Jenjoremy for Stories4Charity. Prompt: Late season 1 or early season 2. Before Madison. Dean is watching Sam fall apart, barely sleeping and eating. Nightmares. He figures Sam needs to get laid. (see rest inside) WINCEST - first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Aid

Dean was pulled from his sleep yet again by the sounds of his brother's distress. He'd tried over and over again to stop himself from waking the kid up. Sam had barely been sleeping lately, and it was really starting to show during the day. Nightmare or not, he needed to sleep.

It started a week ago, Sam jolting awake in the car with a momentary look of horror on his face, those split seconds before becoming aware that whatever happened moments before was just a dream, and thinking he'd schooled his face before Dean could see it. Dean always saw it, though. It might have only been a year since Sam started hunting with him again, but Dean knew his brother like the back of his hand. He'd practically raised him, after all.

It was that thought that made him come to a realization. Not the whole 'raised him' thing, but the part where Sam had been back with him for a year. Just a few days past exactly a year, in fact. It was the anniversary of Jessica's death. Now the nightmares made more sense.

It was really no fault of Dean's. He wasn't good with remembering dates of things like that. That's what Sam was for. Hell, even while Sam was at school, Dean would get a text now and then reminding him that Dad's birthday was in two days, or the summer solstice was right around the corner, or there was gonna be a full moon and to watch out for stuff in the night. Sam was good with dates. Sam knew Dean wasn't.

Dean didn't like waking Sam up, especially when it had been so long since he'd gotten anywhere near enough sleep. But this nightmare seemed to be particularly worse than the others, Sam thrashing from side to side, a sheen of sweat lit up by the few rays of dawn sunlight peeking through the dingy orange motel room curtains. His hands gripped and twisted the sheets on either side of him, legs tangled up and trapped further down on the bed. What had been labored breathing was quickly turning into whimpering, sounding like he was in actual physical pain. Dean couldn't let him stay in that.

He found himself stumbling out of his own bed to get over to Sam, nearly tripping over his bag he'd absentmindedly thrown between the beds the previous night. Sam's whimpering was turning into pained screams just before Dean grabbed onto his brother's arms, gripping them tightly so he wouldn't get decked in the process of pulling him from his dream.

"Sam, wake up," he said, shaking him slightly. Sam seemed only to stiffen, panicking at the restraint before he began to struggle harder. "Sam!" Dean shouted, having no choice but to get up on the bed, straddling Sam so he could keep him from taking a dive onto the floor. "Hey! Sammy, wake up!"

Sam's eyes flew open, blinking fast as he drew in a deep breath. It took a moment to focus on the figure hovering over him. "Dean?" his voice cracked, and he tried to tug his arms out of his brother's grip.

"You good?" Dean asked, only now noticing that there were tear trails on Sam's face amidst the sweat.

"Get off me," Sam said, struggling again, but with a purpose Dean could understand now.

Dean quickly moved off of his brother, watching as Sam pushed to sit up, trying to swipe any evidence of tears from his face as if Dean hadn't seen them yet. "Sorry," Dean told him where he sat on the edge of the bed still. "Just seemed like a really bad one."

"Yeah...no it's...it's okay," Sam said, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, his legs swung over the side and his back to his brother. "Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it," Dean replied as he pushed to stand up. "It's morning anyway. Gonna head out and grab us some grub, unless you wanna go with. We could just eat at that diner up the road..."

"Yeah, okay," Sam jerkily nodded, still not meeting Dean's eyes.

"Is that a 'yeah, okay' you wanna go with?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Just...let me take a quick shower first," he said as he stood up from the bed.

"Yeah you do that. You reek, dude," he said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Sam rolled his eyes. "You're the one who used up all the hot water last night."

"Hey, you picked this motel," Dean defended. "It's not my fault there's a ten minute max of hot water."

Sam shook his head, but he was at least smiling a bit. Dean counted that as a win and grabbed his bag to find something to wear...

.~*~.

"So uh..." Dean hesitated. They'd ordered their food, and were waiting with coffee in the booth of the little diner. Dean wasn't much of a talker. Not about...feelings and stuff. But this was Sam, and the dark circles under his little brother's eyes were getting more and more noticeable. If talking would help, Dean would make the sacrifice. "I'm sorry, man," he said. Sam looked at him with furrowed brows, confused by the statement. "I forgot what day it was. I shoulda remembered."

Sam's furrowed brows slowly disappeared, the emotion slipping from his face and leaving it completely blank. "You don't have to be sorry," he replied quietly. "It's not your problem."

"Yes it is," Dean replied, ready to say more, except that the waitress was back with their food, and he looked up at her as she set their plates down in front of them both.

"Enjoy," she told them, smiling before she turned to leave. Dean had given her a quick, small smile in return before looking back to Sam.

"When it's affecting you this bad, it's my problem, too," he told him.

"It's not like it's affecting me on the job, Dean," Sam defended. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, it's been like this for a week," Dean retorted as he lifted the top bun from his burger and reached for the ketchup bottle. "You don't eat, you barely sleep, and when you do you're up half an hour later from the nightmares."

"What exactly do you expect me to be able to do about it?" Sam asked, frustrated. Yet when Dean met his eyes again, he could see something else there, too. Pleading. As if Sam hoped that his brother had an answer for it.

Dean had picked up his burger, intent on taking a bite, but at the look of Sam's face he placed it back down on his plate. "I know I'm the picture of mental health," Dean quipped, "But I dunno, man. You wanna talk about it or something?"

"Talk about what?" Sam raised a brow, a grimace on his face as he pushed his salad around with his fork.

"The nightmares," Dean replied. "I mean, I figure it's the same as it was back after it happened; you're flashing back to the night it happened and all."

"It was," Sam started, looking at his salad as if it was a challenge to be conquered, but ultimately put the fork down and leaned back in the booth, arms crossing over his stomach.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"It's changing," Sam replied. "I don't know why. It's not just Jess anymore. It's...other people."

"Like...other girlfriends?"

"No," Sam shook his head, eyes rolling. "Just...anyone. People I know. People I come into contact with. They all end up dying like that."

"Hey, it's just nightmares, okay?" Dean assured him.

"This morning, it was you," Sam said even quieter, and if Dean didn't know any better he'd say Sam's eyes were tearing up again.

"That's not gonna happen, Sam," Dean told him even more firmly. "You have a really bad guilt complex, that's all. It's just your head messin' with you. You just...you need a distraction, man," he said as he picked up his burger again.

"Hunts aren't helping," Sam replied, straightening a bit in his seat. "I can't even concentrate on research. I don't wanna get us hurt or something, but I dunno what to do."

"What you need," Dean said with a mouthful of burger, "Is to get laid."

"Dude!" Sam's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing pink, embarrassed.

"It's been a year, Sammy. I'm a hundred percent positive that Jess wouldn't want you walkin' around celibate for the rest of your life."

"I'm not-" Sam started out louder than he'd intended, then stopped and glanced around them to make sure no one had looked over. He turned back to Dean and leaned a bit over the table so he could talk quietly. "I'm not even thinking about that crap, Dean," he told him. "And I'm not like you. I can't just go find some random girl and have a one-night stand. That's not how I work."

"Yeah yeah... And that's the wrong attitude to have when you're in this kinda life," Dean reminded him, taking another bite of his burger. "You want all that...fancy romantic wooing bullcrap. Date for a month, fall in love, then start with all the good stuff. That's not doable in the hunting world, kiddo."

"Trust me, I'm not even looking for it," Sam retorted, leaning back in his seat again. "But you're the one talking about I need to get laid. It doesn't do anything for me if I'm not in a relationship, Dean."

"How would you even know?" Dean asked with a raised brow. "You've never even done it."

Sam scoffed. "I've been to hundreds of bars with you, remember?" Sam said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I've watched you spot a hot girl and go straight on a mission, and most of the time succeeding. I get that that's enough for you; finding a hot girl and getting off. But...I need more than that. It's not satisfying for me. Hell, really I can't even get into that whole scene," he said as he went back to poking his salad around with his fork.

"A guy has needs, Sam," Dean continued. "Nobody's needs a relationship. Everybody needs sex."

"Maybe you don't," Sam countered. "And I don't...need sex," he added, mumbling.

"Yeah ya do," Dean said, finishing the last of his burger. "You just don't realize it yet. So...I'm takin' you to a bar tonight. Gonna find you someone nice, get you laid, and you'll see." Sam sighed and shook his head. "But first, you're gonna finish that damn salad, 'cause we're not leaving here till you do."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but he got to work eating anyway, and Dean counted it as another win.

.~*~.

"This is stupid," Sam grumbled before they reached the side entrance to the bar just up the street from their motel. It was dark out, somewhere around nine, he figured. Dean had taken him shopping, and they were both wearing probably the newest clothes they'd ever owned in their entire lives.

Dean had dished out over two hundred bucks on their jeans and shirts. "You want a classier chick, you've gotta look a little classier than normal," he'd said. Sam felt almost alien in the blue, form-fitting dress shirt and tighter than usual jeans. But Dean looked amazing, and it kind of distracted Sam from how strange he felt in his own outfit. And really, he should instead feel strange about thinking that his brother looked amazing, because that wasn't something you should ever think about your brother. He definitely shouldn't be staring at how the black fitted button-down shirt clung to his brother's perfect torso. It should absolutely not make something flutter in his stomach.

"It most definitely is not stupid, Sam," Dean said, turning to him and straightening Sam's collar where it had gone lopsided from the walk over. "This ain't a redneck bar. It's kinda in the middle of that and a decent night club," he explained. "Remember, I've been here a couple of times this week already. This is how most of the guys here dress. Trust me. The chicks will dig it."

"I dunno," Sam shook his head, looking down at the gravel under his boots.

"Hey listen," Dean bumped Sam's shoulder with his fist. "Tonight ain't about me, okay? I'm not gonna take off and leave you on your own. God knows you won't get anywhere without me," he smirked and winked at him.

"Jerk," Sam said, but laughed anyway.

"Seriously though. I'm not pickin' up a chick until you're set up yourself. I promise."

"We don't need to do this, man," Sam tried to back up when Dean went to lead him to the door.

"Dude, yes we do," Dean insisted. "Seriously, we need this. You're gonna find a nice girl, get your 52-week-stunted rocks off, then get some seriously good sleep while your mind is still in the happy zone. Then maybe I can sleep the whole night, too." He knew he'd hook him with the subtle guilt trip there at the end. A grimace and a fidget later, Sam gave a short, begrudging nod, and Dean smiled and opened the door to the bar.

Win number three.

.~*~.

Forty minutes later, and Dean is standing at the bar watching Sam be super uncomfortable with the hot brunette Dean had nudged in Sam's direction. Sam was even just drunk enough that he shouldn't be picky. But Dean had picked her because she seemed pretty smart and wasn't dressed like a whore, and was too put together to be using a fake ID, and therefore not underage. Still, Sam was obviously not into her. He was playing nice, smiling and laughing at whatever she was saying to him, but Dean knew his brother's expressions. He knew his postures and his ticks and his tells. Sam was definitely wanting it to end.

So Dean found himself walking back over to the table, a grateful expression lighting up his brother's features once he saw him approaching. Brunette looked up to see where Sam's attention had been drawn.

"Hey," Dean half-smiled down at her. "Sorry but I've gotta get Sam back to the room. I forgot we've got an early job. Need to sober up and get some sleep."

"Oh," she looked disappointed. "Well," she said as she turned back to Sam, "If you're still in town tomorrow night, I'll be here."

"Okay," Sam replied with a smile. "It was nice meeting you, Ashley."

"You too, Sam," she told him before standing up out of the booth. "G'night, Dean."

Dean just nodded to her with a smile, before looking to his brother.

"Are we really leaving?" Sam asked once Ashley was out of ear-shot.

"You're obviously not into this," Dean replied. "It's fine, man. We'll get outta here, maybe take some time off. Lay low for a while till you're back to yourself."

Sam furrowed his brows as he moved out of the booth and stood. He wanted to reply to that, argue against it, but he couldn't think of any reason why Dean's suggestion wasn't a good one. He followed silently out of the bar behind his brother. He was just drunk enough to let himself stare openly at how great Dean's ass looked in those jeans. Just on the right side of inebriated to allow himself to play back every uninvited fantasy in his head.

And by uninvited, he meant weird dreams he woke up from, his subconscious having taken a hard left turn down Hot-Gay-Incest Lane. Those dreams had started unexpectedly after he'd gone off to Stanford. It had only been once in a while, really; not like it was every night. He figured he'd just missed his brother, and his weird freaky brain was twisting it around into something it was absolutely not. It's why he got with Jess in the first place, if he were to be honest with himself. And wasn't that just all kinds of even more fucked up...

He had needed the distraction, and Jess had hit on him, and he'd started to see her. It had worked, of course. All of the sex part of his dreams had faded. Jess had given him that part of his needs and more. The fact that the relationship had turned out so perfect was another story.

Aaand now he was sad again.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Dean asked, and Sam realized they'd stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Dean was standing facing him now.

Sam flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and tipsiness. "Yeah, I... I was just thinking that you're right," he told him.

"About laying low for a while?"

"Uh...yeah," Sam replied hesitantly. Dean didn't miss that, and he smirked.

"Or about getting laid?" Dean said with a raised brow. "Maybe both," he commented.

Sam didn't respond, but started the brisk walk toward the motel again, ignoring Dean's snickering as he tried to catch up again. "We have liquor in the room, don't we?" Sam asked quietly.

"Don't I always?" Dean replied as he pulled the key from his pocket. "Didn't make a beer run yet, though," he said.

Sam didn't much reply to that, either, and pushed into the room after Dean, heading for the bag he knew his brother kept the bottle in.

"Whoa there, tiger," Dean said as he locked the door and reinforced the salt line. "Don't be draining that whole thing. That's all I've got right now."

"Relax, Dean," Sam said as he plopped down on the bed farthest from the door, leaning back against the headboard as he unscrewed the cap. "There's an ABC store up the street. You can restock tomorrow."

Dean watched his brother take a generous swig of the golden liquid. "Dude, I am not cleaning up your vomit," he said as he stalked over to try and grab it from his hands.

But Sam twisted in the bed, moving the bottle out of Dean's reach. "I had like two drinks and the bar," he argued, twisting more when Dean tried to reach for it again and fell, landing across Sam's lap before rolling over to the other end of the bed so he could snag the bottle. "Jerk!" Sam growled, punching Dean in the shoulder.

Dean just laughed and pushed to sit back against the headboard beside him. "Don't be a sore loser, Sammy," he told him, and then took a long swig himself, at which point Sam saw the opportunity and swiped the bottle back before Dean even swallowed the mouthful he'd taken. "Bitch!" he shouted, wiping his sleeve across his mouth to catch what had spilled. He looked at Sam who was chugging another swig from the bottle. "The hell are you trying to do to yourself, huh?" he asked as he grabbed the bottle back and put the cap back on.

"Maybe 'f I'm drunk, I can sleep through the night," Sam replied.

"You're s'posed to be the healthy one in the family," Dean grumbled, putting the bottle down on the floor beside the bed. "Shoulda just tapped that hot chick from the bar, dude. Nothin' helps you sleep like a good round of sexy-time."

"But I already told you, Dean-"

"Yeah, yeah, you need to be in a relationship for it to work. I heard you the first time."

"You're the only one I have a relationship with," Sam said, shoulders sagging a bit as he looked down at his lap. "A real one, I mean."

Dean looked over at him for a moment, a thought popping into his head that made it out of his mouth before he could think more about it. "Then...do it with me," he said.

Sam's head snapped to look at his brother. "What?"

"You need to be in a relationship to enjoy sex, then do it with me," Dean said with a shrug.

Sam looked at him for a long moment, speechless, his mouth hanging open. "Dean, that's... You can't possibly be serious," he said, shaking his head. "You're drunk. Yeah..."

"So what if I am?" Dean replied, looking over at him now. "Who cares?"

"In the morning I'm sure you'll care a whole lot," Sam replied with raised brows. "This is never something you'd be okay with sober."

"That's where you're wrong," Dean told him. And while it might be true that Dean would never bring this up without alcohol or something drowning his inhibitions, he couldn't deny his secret fascination for Sam. He had loved Sam more than anything in the world for his whole life. But there was also this whole other twisted side to it that he kept to himself, mostly because he loved him so much. He didn't want to scare him off, and he didn't want to ever lose part of him for it.

"That's something someone drunk would say, too," Sam replied.

"Fine," Dean conceded. "You don't believe me, then okay. At least let me help you out for now, then, until I can prove it to you in the morning. You know...when I'm sober."

"Help me out? With what?" Sam was confused. He was drunk, he realized. Maybe even more than Dean. In fact, he was pretty sure of that, because Dean held his liquor a lot better than Sam. It was hard to figure out why Dean was looking at him the way he was, or why Dean was suddenly moving away from the headboard. Or why he started tugging Sam's jeans down. But then suddenly, as he began sliding down the mattress because the jeans were hung up on his hips, he caught on. "Whoa! Dean, wait!" he said, trying but failing to push himself back.

"Cool your jets, Sammy," Dean smiled as he crawled up between his brother's legs, hands settling on the button fly of Sam's jeans. "I promise I'm real good at this," he told him as he popped open the button and began the slow slide down of the zipper.

"But y-you c-can't," Sam's breath came fast, and he couldn't tell if it was because he was terrified or turned on.

"I can," Dean countered, meeting his eyes. "Not just because I want us both to get some real sleep tonight, and not just because I want to... But, Sam, since I brought this up, you haven't once said you didn't want this. There was no 'hell no' or 'so gross, Dean', and then this," he said as he ran his hand over the obvious erection tenting Sam's boxers which were now exposed under the open fly. Sam couldn't speak in reply. He was too busy trying to breathe; too busy being kinda grateful that Dean had pulled him down this far on the bed so that when he head dropped back, it was onto a pillow and not into the hardwood headboard. "See, that right there," Dean smiled, and Sam could hear the cockiness in his voice. "You want me to do this, don't you, Sammy," he said as he pulled the boxers down, freeing Sam's hard cock. Sam's breath hitched, his head picking up to look down at Dean. "You want it as bad I wanna do it, don't you," Dean said, and Sam couldn't reply; wouldn't let himself. But Dean took that as a yes, and suddenly he was licking his way from base to tip of Sam's now-twitching dick. Dean smiled to himself at the sound that came from Sam's throat, and how Sam's hands grasped fists full of the sheets on either side of him.

Sam was beyond words. The alcohol was numbing his ability to think of a single reason why this was wrong; why this had never happened before now. All he could think about was how good it felt, Dean touching him like this. Dean touching him...

Then Dean was sucking the tip of Sam's leaking cock into his mouth, and Sam's hips arched up off of the bed seeking more. Dean laughed through his nose and yanked Sam's jeans and boxers down in one swift move, as far as he could manage in their position. Sam looked down right as his brother's mouth engulfed him completely, all the way down to the base, and he could feel himself sliding deep into Dean's throat.

"Oh god...oh...g-god!" Sam shouted, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he tried hard not to come right then and there. It had been a while since he'd had someone touch him; maybe even that long since he'd so much as touched himself. So when Dean moaned around him as he pulled off just slightly, and gently grabbed Sam's balls, squeezing and pulling as he continued to suck, Sam couldn't hold on any longer. "De- Dean, stop!" he shouted. "Gonna...fuck, De, gonna come!"

But Dean didn't stop. If anything, he just worked all the harder. His eyes sought out Sam's, and once they met, Sam was shouting, his cock convulsing in Dean's mouth, his hips stuttering even as Dean now held them down. He kept going, kept milking everything he could get from Sam, if for nothing more than to hear the sounds Sam was making through his orgasm.

Sam was on cloud nine...whatever the fuck that meant. He definitely felt like he was floating. And Dean knew the perfect moment to stop what he was doing, that moment before it became too much. He felt the bed shift as his vision swam back into focus, and he looked down to see Dean wipe a finger under his bottom lip before he moved to sit back on his haunches. But Sam was quick to reach out and grab onto the collar of Dean's shirt, pulling him up toward him.

Dean's hands slapped down onto the mattress before he could fall over from the sudden switch in direction. "Sam?" he questioned, looking confused.

"You'll prove it in the morning, right?" Sam said, grabbing either side of Dean's face, pulling him closer to his own. "That you want this too?" All Dean could do was nod his head before Sam pressed his mouth against Dean's. Dean kissed back, no more than a second of hesitation before he deepened it.

One of Dean's hands came up to cup the side of Sam's face, holding Sam's head in place so he could pull away for a moment. "Sammy?" He looked back and forth between Sam's eyes, unsure of what exactly he was asking. 'Are you sure?' or 'Is this real?' maybe.

And then Sam's hands are moving down Dean's body, down his chest, over his stomach, tucking into the top of his jeans before they meet at the button. Before Dean can object, Sam's kissing him again, devouring him as he opens Dean's pants and shoves a hand inside, grabbing onto Dean's hot, hard cock. Dean can't help the groan that bursts out of him. His hand goes to grab for Sam's, to pull it away.

"Dean-" he protests.

"Was s'posed to be for you," Dean said, meeting his eyes again, his hand firmly holding on top of Sam's over his dick.

"Let me," Sam pleaded. "Dean, let me. I want this..." Dean's head was swimming again, thoughts jumbled and unclear. His hold on Sam's hand loosened, but didn't move away. Sam began stroking him, squeezing on the upstroke and twisting his wrist, making Dean's brain go even more blank. Sam's free hand gripped Dean's hair, pulling him back down so that his forehead pressed against Sam's. "Wanna make you come, Dean," he told him. A groan snuck out from deep in Dean's throat. "And tomorrow," Sam continued, "When you're proving to me that you really want this, I want you to fuck me." Dean's hand slapped back down on the mattress, supporting the other one that had become shaky trying to keep holding himself up. "Want us to be just like this," Sam kept going, "Except I want you inside me when we come."

"Jesus," Dean said shakily, thrusting into Sam's hand. "Yeah, Sammy...want that," he told him breathlessly.

"I'll be so good for you, De," Sam told him, stroking him harder and faster. "I'll do anything you want; make you forget all the others, whoever you learned how to suck cock so good from." And if Dean wasn't in the process of coming all over his brother's hand, he might have questioned that statement a few times over. He would totally think about it in a second...ya know, after Sam was done squeezing every last drop out of Dean's dick. For now, his face was tucked into Sam's neck, smelling him as he breathed in, shock waves shuttering through his body with every stroke, even as Sam slowed down.

Sam was even more sated now that Dean's come was cooling on his hand, than when Dean had gotten him off earlier. Something about the full weight of him lying on top of him, which shouldn't even be on his list of things he fantasizes about, especially since they'd spent a better part of their lives sparring, wrestling and rolling around together on the ground, and he'd never thought of it as sexual. Well...except maybe that one time when he was thirteen and his hormones were kicking in, when Dean had pinned him and Sam's dick had chosen that moment to stand at attention. Okay so maybe it was more than once...maybe half a dozen times he had to use every strand of strength in his body to get himself unpinned so he could hightail it to the bathroom and either jerk off or take a cold shower.

All right, so maybe there was a perfectly legit reason that this was a turn on.

"This was s'posed to be for you," Dean repeated into Sam's neck.

Sam smiled. "Oh, it was," he replied. Dean pushed up a bit to look at him, and Sam turned them, Dean now on his side, their fronts flush against each others. Dean just looked at him wide-eyed, like Sam was something he didn't understand, but was amazing at the same time. "It worked, Dean. I'm tired. Think I might actually be able to sleep tonight. But uh...could you stay with me?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah sure, Sammy," Dean replied, his eyes flitting back and forth as if he suddenly had no earthly idea what the hell to do next. But Sam turned onto his back and started shucking out of his jeans, wiping Dean's come off onto the leg without even thinking about it. Dean absentmindedly shucked out of his own jeans and kicked them to the floor, and then Sam was turning back to face him, tucking his head into Dean's chest and wrapping an arm around his middle.

Dean wasn't sure what to think about how good this felt, how easy it was to wrap his own arm around Sam, kiss the top of his head as they wiggled around to get comfortable.

They'd talk about it in the morning. Dean would tell him that he loved him then. Saying it drunk wouldn't mean much anyway. He didn't have time to think about the possibility that Sam would freak out in the morning, because he was about a handful of seconds away from unconsciousness, the sound of Sam peacefully sleeping pulling him right alongside him...

~End


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